


Morticia's Romance

by EmonyDeborah



Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, The Munsters, The New Addams Family
Genre: Anniversary, F/M, Past Abuse, Scars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-02-06 02:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12807777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmonyDeborah/pseuds/EmonyDeborah
Summary: "Mother, Father, how did you meet?" Wednesday had been expecting something sappy and romantic and the good kind of nauseating, but she was surprised when her Uncle Fester and her Grandmama shuddered, and her parents glanced at each other with something close to panic in their eyes."Please, Wednesday," Fester said, sounding like Wednesday had asked if she could dye her hair blond and wear pink dresses. "There are some things a delicate child, such as yourself, is better off not knowing."My version of how Gomez and Morticia met and fell in love. Based on the New Addams Family, will progress into AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the Addams Family or any of these characters. In fact, a lot of this dialogue isn’t mine, either.

“Happy thirteenth anniversary!” 

“Well thank you Mama,” Morticia said as she took a nicely wrapped box from Mama’s outstretched hands. She opened the box as her family looked on, Wednesday and Pugsley sitting on the floor, Fester and Mama in armchairs across the coffee table, Lurch standing by with drinks, and her darling Gomez beside her, as he always was. She untied the black ribbon and took off the lid, and gasped when she found a beautiful black nightgown.

“It’s lovely,” she said warmly, holding it out in front of her. It was long enough to go to her feet, and she could tell it was going to fit very tightly.

“Actually, it’s more of a gift for Gomez,” Mama said with a wink. 

“Really?” Gomez asked cluelessly as he ran his hand over the smooth fabric. “I don’t think it’s my size.”

“Darling,” Morticia said lightly, and raised her eyebrows. She could tell when he understood, his eyes lit up suggestively.

“Oh. Thank you, Mama,” he said with a devilish grin. Morticia smiled indulgently at him, and leaned forward to give him a quick kiss. And another. And another.

“Look at those two lovebirds,” Fester said contentedly. “They’re as crazy about each other now as they were the day they met.” He and Mama glanced at each other and smiled, but Wednesday sat up, intrigued. 

“Mother, Father, how did you meet?” Wednesday had been expecting something sappy and romantic and the good kind of nauseating, but she was surprised when her Uncle Fester and her Grandmama shuddered, and her parents glanced at each other with something close to panic in their eyes.

“Please Wednesday,” Fester said, sounding like Wednesday had asked if she could dye her hair blonde and wear pink dresses. “There are some things a delicate child, such as yourself, is better off not knowing.”

“Fester’s right.” Wednesday turned to her father as he continued. “Some things can scar a person for life.” Wednesday didn’t notice Morticia’s hands twitch in Gomez’s, or the apologetic squeeze he gave them in response.

“But we’ve already been exposed to MTV, Barney, and the Spice Girls,” she retorted. Surely nothing her parents told her could have a worse effect than any of those things.

Apparently Pugsley was thinking along the same lines, because he backed her up. “Yeah, what could be worse than that?” he asked.

“The children do have a point,” Grandmama said reluctantly. Gomez and Morticia looked at each other.

“Shall we?” Morticia asked, her eyebrows raised. Gomez sighed and turned towards the children.

“Well, for starters, I wasn’t supposed to marry your mother.” His face fell at the memory. “I was supposed to marry her sister, Ophelia.” Wednesday and Pugsley turned to each other in horror.

“Aunt Ophelia?” they asked incredulously. Morticia smiled and diverted the conversation.

“I’ll never forget the first day we met. The sun was shining, the birds were singing...” Gomez finished her thought.

“I knew we were in for trouble.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said earlier, this is based on the New Addams Family. I encourage you to actually watch the episode with an open mind, I really like it. The entire thing is on YouTube. I have not yet started into my AU, this chapter goes almost exactly as the episode does.

“Gomez!” Gomez Addams put down the toy train he was working on and turned around to see his mother bustling into the room. “Try this for your cold,” she ordered, holding out a beaker full of some blue liquid. “It’ll eat right through your sinuses.”

“Thanks, Mama,” Gomez replied as he took the beaker. He quickly drained it of its contents, and gave himself a moment to enjoy Mama’s medicine burning his throat on the way down. “I don’t know what’s come over me. I never get sick,” he said in a discouraged tone. Indeed, this was the first time in his memory that he had been in less than perfect health. It was deliciously miserable, but Mama had insisted on curing him. “You’ve got more important things to worry about than a silly little cold,” she had argued. 

Now she was patting him on the back as she consoled him. “Oh, it’s probably just nerves,” she said dismissively. “After all, it isn’t every day a young man meets his bride-to-be for the first time.” Gomez had been facing his train set, but at that last comment he spun around, his expression desperate.

“I’ve got an idea: Instead of this arranged marriage with Ophelia, why don’t I go out on my own, find someone, and fall madly in love?” he asked, gesturing emphatically with his arms in an attempt to get his point across. Mama only shrugged.

“What’s the fun in that?” she asked incredulously. Gomez’s face fell. “Besides, arranged marriages are an Addams family tradition. We’ve been doing it for centuries, and there hasn’t been a divorce yet.” She took the beaker as she was speaking and decisively tapped his chest with it. Gomez turned back to his trains, muttering to himself.

“Just a few untimely deaths,” he mumbled, and Mama grabbed his arm and turned him back around to face her.

“Gomez, trust me.” She patted him on the cheek. “I always know what’s best for my boys.” As she was speaking, Gomez’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he collapsed to the ground. Mama frowned at his unmoving body for a moment, puzzled, then lifted the empty beaker to her nose.

“Oops,” she said sheepishly to herself. “Strychnine.” She shuffled off and left Gomez on the floor, knowing he would wake up soon enough. When he did fifteen minutes later, it didn’t take him long to orient himself and he quickly went back to working on his trains. He would have stayed there until Mama had to drag him out, but he was distracted by Lurch’s deep voice calling from the front of the house.

“Special delivery,” he rumbled, piquing Gomez’s curiosity and luring him from his place of refuge. There was a large wooden crate just inside the front door, and Mama got to it just as Gomez did.

“Let’s hope it’s a wedding gift, we could use some new vats,” she remarked, but Gomez chose to ignore her comment in favor of inspecting the crate. 

“Hey, ‘fragile,’” he said, pointing at the warning on the side. Suddenly the box started to shake, and Gomez and Mama stood back and watched with fascination as it shuffled forward a few feet before falling over. They stood over the box for a moment before grinning at each other, Gomez’s gloom momentarily forgotten. Mama grabbed a hatchet, and Gomez produced a chain saw, and they both set to hacking the box to pieces. Several woodchips in the eye later, Gomez and Mama stood back as the box finally fell apart and a figure stood up out of the rubble.

“Son!” Mama exclaimed, and stepped forward to embrace the deathly pale and completely hairless man.

“Mama!” he answered, and gave her a brief hug.

“Fester!” Gomez said as he clapped a hand onto his brother’s shoulder. “Back for my wedding!” He had to say the last part through clenched teeth, but he did spit it out for Mama’s benefit.

“Gomez!” Fester said, failing to notice his brother’s unease. “You almost cut my arm off back there!” He paused. “Better luck next time!” he said with a grin, waggling the skin where eyebrows would be if he had any. Gomez chuckled. He felt better knowing Fester was here to look out for him.

“I see you got a new crate,” Mama commented, gesturing to the remains of said crate all over the floor.

“Isn’t it a beauty?” Fester asked proudly. “It’s made from the cheapest pine available, so it splinters easily.” To demonstrate, he reached behind him and pulled an eight-inch long splinter out of his rump. “See?” Gomez raised his eyebrows, impressed, and Mama cackled.

“Oh, that must have hurt,” she said gleefully. Fester nodded happily. “So, how are things at MIT?” Mama asked. Fester’s face fell into frustration.

“Mama, MIT was three universities ago. Remember? They expelled me for blowing up the chemistry department.”

“Oh, that,” Mama answered scornfully. “Some places will throw you out for anything.” Fester nodded his agreement. He had liked his four days at MIT, his expulsion still annoyed him.

“Fester,” Gomez cut in. “Let’s go out and celebrate your return while the night is still damp.” Fester nodded happily and hurried away towards the backyard, leaving his back exposed. Taking advantage of his brother’s momentarily lowered guard, Gomez picked up Mama’s hatchet and hurled it at Fester’s back. Unfortunately, the blade was too dull to pierce the skin, but it did give a nice sounding thunk, and the force behind it as it hit him directly between the shoulderblades knocked Fester straight to the ground.

“Nice aim!” he called, and then peeled himself off the floor. Gomez rushed forward to help him up, and they ran out the back door together like children off to blow up a manhole cover. Mama smiled indulgently after her sons, and shook her head fondly as they scampered out of sight.

Fester and Gomez quickly decided to play a round of minigolf, and Fester gave Gomez the first putt. Gomez expertly lined up his shot, but when he went to swing, the club flew out of his hands and straight into one of the obstacles they had set up, a little windmill.

“Nice shot,” Fester commented, half-impressed. He had never hit the windmill on his first try. “Next time you should try hitting the ball.” Gomez sighed dejectedly.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he grabbed another club. “I guess all this talk about marriage is affecting my game.”

“Well, if you’re having second thoughts maybe you should talk to Mama.” Again, Gomez set up his shot, and again, he hurled his club away instead of hitting the ball.

“I tried!” he exclaimed, and allowed Fester to step forward and take his turn. “But she and Mrs. Frump have been planning this since they were children, paying with matches!” Fester succeeded in hitting the ball, and it flew straight into a gravestone, bounced off, and fell directly into the hole.

“Haha!” he cried triumphantly, but Gomez didn’t acknowledge his brilliant shot. 

Instead, he picked up another golfball and said, “Ya know, Fester, Ophelia has a sister. We could make this a double wedding.” Fester snorted.

“Not me. I’m a bachelor for life,” he answered dismissively. “Besides, I promised the doctors at the asylum I’d never reproduce.” 

“Oh well.” Gomez set up another shot. “I guess I’ll have to make the best of it. Maybe Ophelia won’t be as bad as I think.” Once again, the club flew out of his hands, but this time it was on the backswing, and it went straight through a window. “Fore?” he said worriedly, and he and Fester hurried back into the house.

Just as they were almost to the small room where Mama like to serve refreshments, they heard her yell, “Gomez! Come on!”

“What is it Mama?” Gomez asked as he rushed in.

“It’s time to meet your new bride,” she said excitedly, and scurried towards the front door, Lurch lumbering along close behind her. Fester elbowed Gomez teasingly and bustled after them. For a moment Gomez considered running away, but, eventually, he just stuck his hands in his pockets and followed.

“This is so exciting!” Mama squealed as they reached the front of the house. Just as Gomez stepped into place beside his brother, Lurch opened the door to admit a tall blonde woman in a hideous purple coat, who rushed in, her arms outstretched.

“Eudora!” she exclaimed fondly, and pulled Mama into a short hug.

“Griselda,” Mama answered more calmly, but with equal affection. “Where’s Ophelia?”

“Right behind me,” Mrs. Frump responded, glancing back at the door. Until, that moment, Gomez had been nursing a weak hope that Ophelia would be nice enough and that he could learn to be happy. But any and all hopes were dashed as soon as Ophelia came over the threshold. She was wearing a thin, almost see-through white romper and entirely too much make-up, she had a tan, and there were daisies in her blonde hair.

Before even introducing herself she turned to Lurch, who was still dutifully holding the door open, and said in a grating, sing-song voice, “My bags are in the car, and please, careful mucci with the Gucci!” Gomez was instantly repulsed by her overly sweet, yet bossy, manner, but he fought to keep it off his face. Lurch was apparently in agreement with Gomez’s disgust, because he raised one eyebrow and groaned, which for him was being very expressive. But Ophelia didn’t seem to notice as she stepped forward to where Fester and Gomez were standing side by side. Lurch left to get the bags as ordered, and Gomez wished in vain that he could escape, too.

“Welcome!” Fester said happily, holding out his hand, and for a moment, Gomez wished he had his brother’s charm. He made everything look so easy.

Ophelia didn’t seem to agree. She glanced down at Fester’s offered hand but didn’t take it. “I don’t think so,” she said disdainfully, and then turned to Gomez, a smile quickly plastered onto her face. “Well, you must be Gomez,” she squealed.

Without thinking, Gomez answered, “I’m Fester.” Fester scoffed indignantly.

“I’m Fester!” he protested, and bustled away in a huff. 

“Well aren’t you the comedian.” Ophelia punched Gomez’s arm, hard, in what he presumed was supposed to be a friendly way. “I’m Ophelia,” she said in her horribly sweet sing-song voice, and held up her hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Gomez said sullenly, and kissed her hand, as she clearly wanted him to. Suddenly, a huge roar came from outside that seemed to shake the house. Gomez dropped Ophelia’s hand and asked eagerly, “What was that?” 

She rolled her eyes and answered, “Oh, that’s my sister’s cat.” She leaned forward confidentially. “She likes things with claws,” she said, as if she were revealing a scandalous and embarrassing secret.

“Yes, it turns out it’s illegal to leave a lion at home alone with someone younger than twenty-two, so we brought Morticia along to be maid-of-honor,” Mrs. Frump said apologetically, as if Morticia and her lion were going to be terribly troublesome. “I said we should wait another week for Morticia’s birthday and leave her at home, but Ophelia insisted she couldn’t wait.” Ophelia cast a simpering smile at Gomez, which he did not return. “You remember Morticia, don’t you?” Mrs. Frump asked Mama, who beamed.

“Of course. Welcome!” Gomez looked up at the door to see who Mama was talking to, and his jaw dropped to the floor. Standing on the threshold of his house was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was Ophelia’s opposite in almost every way, and Gomez marveled that they could be sisters.

Morticia looked like she had never gone out in the sun in her entire life, her skin was so pale. Her glossy black hair had been drawn into two long braids, and in complete contrast to Ophelia’s somewhat immodest romper, she was wearing a gray, long-sleeved dress with a high, white collar, black leggings, and practical black boots. She was wearing some makeup, but it was far more subtle than Ophelia’s orange face and bubblegum-colored lipstick. She glanced around the room until her cool gaze landed on Gomez. Gomez found himself drowning in her dark brown eyes, completely oblivious to everyone around him.

“Morticia, Gomez.” Mrs. Frump introduced her daughter dismissively, as if this weren’t the most important moment of Gomez’s life, as he was sure it was. “Gomez, Morticia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You like? Please comment and let me know, I love hearing from you guys!  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

“Morticia,” Gomez said once she had stepped further into the house. He enjoyed the feel of her name as it rolled off his tongue. “It has such a dreary ring to it.” At this, something flickered in her previously emotionless eyes, and her mouth curled up into a tiny smile.

“Why thank you,” she said shyly, looking down at the floor. Gomez reached forward to take her hand, but Ophelia grabbed his hand instead and flipped him onto his back. He landed on the hard floor with a thud and stayed there for a moment, the wind knocked out of him. Morticia peered down at him curiously, and Gomez started to feel warmth creeping up his neck as she looked at him, her face once again empty of any emotion.

“I bet you didn’t know I was a judo champ,” Ophelia bragged.

“No,” Gomez answered, snapped out of his daze. “But then again, I didn’t know I had a slipped disc, either, oh,” he ended with a groan.

“Not only is Ophelia a black belt, she was student body president, head of the glee club, and class caterer,” Mrs. Frump told Mama proudly. “A real joiner.” Gomez would have said he was sorry for Ophelia for having gotten dragged into all of those horrible activities, except she was smiling like her mother had flattered her. If Gomez had been able to see his mama’s face, he would have seen that she didn’t look too impressed, either.

“What about you, Morticia?” he asked. “Are you a joiner, too?” Morticia had been glaring at her mother since she started listing Ophelia’s accomplishments, but when she glanced down at him again the anger left her eyes.

“When socializing with others, it’s best not to put glass in their iced tea,” she said matter-of-factly. Ophelia and Mrs. Frump rolled their eyes. “Cyanide is more effective.” She leaned down and grabbed Gomez’s arm to help him up, and didn’t release him until he was secure on his feet. Gomez didn’t want her to let go, her touch was sending bolts of electricity all through his body, and even through his sleeve he could feel that her hands were icy cold. Once he was standing she backed up, away from her mother and sister, but Gomez followed her without thinking and stood next to her.

“Good point,” he said, sounding impressed at her knowledge of poison, and Morticia looked away bashfully.

“Now, Morticia,” Mrs. Frump chastised as she bustled forward and grabbed Gomez’s arm in a vice-like grip. “No one wants to hear about your anti-social tendencies. In fact,” she said loudly. “Morticia refused even to go to school, I had to teach her everything she knows. Math, science, organic poisoning...” By this point, Gomez had stopped listening. He felt more than saw Morticia tense beside him, and he turned and studied what little of her face he could see. She was mostly facing away from him, but Gomez thought he could sense discomfort in her features. He got the feeling she didn’t like being talked about, at least by her mother, but he was distracted when Mrs. Frump forced him to look at her again. “She aced her SATs,” she said reassuringly, as if Gomez had doubts that Morticia could be smart enough to learn anything. “And her post-mortems.”

Ophelia, frustrated over losing the spotlight, jumped in and said dismissively, “Blah, blah, blah.” She grabbed Gomez’s arm and tugged him away from her mother. “Come on, Gomer,” she grumbled through her teeth.

“It’s Gomez,” he retorted heatedly as she pulled him towards the den, away from Morticia.

“Gomez,” she answered mockingly. She then proceeded to the den and forced him to listen to her talk about several inane topics. 

For two hours.

Two very long hours of Ophelia jabbering nonstop, in which Gomez’s only moment of pleasure was when it ended, when Morticia stopped by to say good night. Ophelia waved her off without saying anything to her, but Gomez leaped to his feet.

“I’ll show you to your room,” he said eagerly, and scampered towards her. He was almost to the door when Ophelia called his attention back to herself.

“Ahem.” Gomez froze, but he didn’t turn back to her. She didn’t notice. She was sitting very primly, facing away from him in false modesty, her back straight and her legs crossed at the ankles. She was smiling almost demurely, but there was a hint of smugness in her expression as well. “Gomez, this house is so big, I don’t think I could find my room.” 

Gomez was staring at Morticia, who was looking shy again, though she didn’t break eye contact. Her mouth twitched again, like it had earlier, into a small smile, and Gomez’s entire face lit up when he saw it. He barely heard Ophelia, but he heard enough to reach past Morticia and pull on the rope hanging from the ceiling. Morticia and Ophelia both jumped at the resulting GONG which rang through the house, and Ophelia finally looked at Gomez, only to find he wasn’t looking anywhere near her. She pouted as Lurch walked into the room in response to the bell.

“You rang?”

“Lurch, please escort Miss Ophelia to her room. I’ll show Miss Morticia-” She had a beautiful name, he loved saying it “-to hers.” Lurch groaned, but Gomez ignored him in favor of offering Morticia his arm. After a moment of hesitation, either from shyness or fear of her sister, she took it, and Gomez led her upstairs, leaving Lurch with a very irritated Ophelia.

Gomez had seen Lurch preparing two bedrooms for Mrs. Frump and Ophelia, but no one had known to expect Morticia, and at first Gomez wasn’t completely sure which room Lurch would have left her things in. There was only one other guest bedroom close to those two, though, and Gomez guessed correctly that that was the room Lurch had chosen. 

When they got to the door of her room, Morticia let go of his arm, but she didn’t go in. Her shyness had returned in full force, and she looked at the ground as Gomez struggled for words.

“So, uh, your mother said something earlier-” Morticia stiffened, and Gomez hurried to continue, hoping to ease her obvious discomfort. “-something about your birthday being next week?” Morticia’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and she finally looked up at him. There was curiosity and no small amount of confusion in her eyes that he would have remembered that particular tidbit of information above the rest. She nodded.

“Yes, it’s next Friday, the thirteenth.” Gomez grinned, glad to have gotten a verbal response from her. She didn’t seem the type to talk very much, but that only made him more curious. She intrigued him, in a way her sister didn’t. He wanted to know everything about her.

“Friday the thirteenth? Sounds like you’ll have a good birthday this year, on a lucky day like that.” Morticia smiled again, and Gomez’s heart did a funny sort of leap inside his chest. “Do you have any plans?” The smile slipped off her face, and Gomez wilted. He liked making her smile. She was so beautiful when she smiled. Then again, she was also beautiful when she wasn’t smiling. She was always beautiful.

“Not really,” she answered, and broke eye contact with him to look at the floor. “I’m turning twenty-two, it’s not a very special birthday.” Gomez frowned.

“Nonsense, any day celebrating you must be special.” A very faint tinge of almost-pink crept into Morticia’s cheeks. “And on Friday the thirteenth, too? Something important is bound to happen.”

“Important, maybe,” she answered in a voice that sounded sad, though Gomez couldn’t imagine why. “But I doubt anything dreadful enough to look forward to.” She glanced up, perhaps realizing that she had revealed a secret part of herself to a man who was barely more than a stranger, and hurried to change the subject, or at least alter it a little. “My birthday was on a Friday four years ago as well.”

Gomez’s face brightened. “Oh? Was it a good birthday?”

“Well, it certainly was very interesting...”

The next half hour was spent talking to Morticia, and it is safe to say that Gomez enjoyed this talk far more than he had the two hours with Ophelia. Eventually, Gomez glanced at his watch, widened his eyes at the lateness of the hour, and apologized for keeping her up so late. 

“I’ll let you go to bed now.”

“Good night,” she responded quietly. Before she went into her room, though, Gomez grabbed her hand and kissed it softly, staring up into her eyes.

“Good night,” he said with a small smile, and he watched as she entered her room and closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment, I'd love to hear what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day Gomez woke early, before 4 p.m. He had been tossing and turning all day, his head filled with Morticia. She had completely enchanted him, though he doubted she had realized it. She had just been talking, but Gomez remembered every word, every expression on her face, and every single intoxicating smile.

He hoped to see her when he went down to breakfast, but she wasn’t downstairs. Ophelia, however, caught him as he was trying to sneak past.

“Gomez,” she called airily. “Come on in, sit with me.” Gomez considered running, but he knew he’d never get away with it. But he did manage to grab Fester as his poor, unsuspecting brother was passing by, and dragged him in with him.

Ophelia curled her lip upon seeing Fester, but she didn’t say anything about him. She ordered Gomez to sit next to her, and he slowly and reluctantly complied. Fester almost left, but Gomez looked so forlorn, he decided to stay and share his brother’s misery. He sat down on the floor, pulled a bomb out from under the table, and started working on it as Ophelia started to talk.

“Hold this,” she demanded, and gave Gomez a small hand mirror. He held it in front of her while she adjusted her hair and the daisies, which were still on her head and actually seemed to be growing there. “Perfect!” she squealed after a moment, even though Gomez couldn’t tell that she had changed anything. “So,” she asked in a ridiculously cheerful voice, “What do you want to do now?”

“Go into a coma.” Even as he was saying it Gomez knew he was getting dangerously close to crossing the line-his mama did want him to be nice-but Ophelia just smacked him with the mirror and laughed.

“You are such a kidder!” She sounded so fake, Gomez couldn’t stand it. Fester had noticed it, too, he rolled his eyes from his position on the floor. Morticia had sounded genuine when she and Gomez had spoken the night before, even though she hadn’t really said much. As much as he wanted to, Gomez didn’t have time to think about Morticia, he reminded himself. He knew that if he allowed himself to go down that road he wouldn’t be able to think about anything else, and he didn’t want to be judo-flipped again. Ophelia pulled him down to sit on the couch and smiled like she knew something he didn’t.

“Now, guess what,” she said teasingly. “I have a surprise for you.” She ran her hand across his shoulders, and Gomez could barely keep himself from shuddering. 

“You’re leaving?” Fester asked sarcastically. Ophelia glared at him, annoyed.

“I can’t believe we both grew up with such oddball siblings,” she said, loud enough that Fester could definitely hear her. Gomez couldn’t resist; he saw the opening, and he took it.

“Yes, well. So, where is Morticia?” he asked, far too eagerly.

“Oh, who knows, probably off feeding her black widows or something.” How was that not interesting? Gomez wanted to see Morticia feed her black widows, it sounded like fun. But Ophelia spoke about her sister dismissively, like she didn’t care for her at all. Gomez had noticed that same trait in Mrs. Frump, and it got under his skin in a way he knew it shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it.

“Close your eyes.” Ophelia interrupted his musings and brought him back to earth by actually putting her fingers on his eyelids and forcing him to shut them. He heard Fester mutter something, and Gomez was sure from his tone that his brother was rolling his eyes. He also heard Ophelia pull something from under the couch and shift a little in her seat. “Now open them!” She sounded very excited, which told Gomez that he was probably not going to like whatever she had to show him. He opened his eyes, resigned, but he was not immediately disgusted. Granted, he had no idea what he was supposed to be looking at, but it didn’t look too ghastly. Ophelia was holding what looked like several squares of white fabric, and she was beaming brightly.

“It’s nice,” said Gomez, because the way she was looking at him made it clear that she expected praise. “What is it?”

“Hello,” she said loudly, rapping her knuckles on his head like she was knocking on a door. “Fabric swatches,” she answered, as if it were obvious. Gomez frowned, confused.

“Fabric swatches? What for?”

“I’m redecorating this house,” she said, gesturing around the room. Fester had been trying to ignore Ophelia, but at that he snapped his head up to look at her, scandalized. “From top to bottom.”

“Why?” Gomez asked, horrified that anyone would want to change anything about his childhood home.

She narrowed her eyes, like she was concerned for his mental health. Gomez would have been flattered, but he doubted Ophelia meant it in a good way.

“This junky old furniture is so depressing, and the lighting in here makes everyone look so ghoulish.” Gomez grinned.

“I know. It took us years to get it like that,” he said fondly, gazing about the room, and Fester nodded his agreement. Ophelia ignored both of them.

“Anyway, I figured we could replace these drab curtains with a paisley chintz, paint the walls a nice eggshell...” Gomez looked around the room again and recoiled, imagining the changes Ophelia was proposing. Fester, immediately infuriated, got to his feet and stood over Ophelia threateningly.

“Listen-” he said angrily, and glanced at the flowers on her head. “-petal-head, you’re not laying one hand on this house.” Ophelia’s eyes grew stormy, and her mouth twisted into a scowl as she stood up.

“Excuse me,” she snarled, and grabbed him by the collar. “But isn’t it time for your freaks-are-us meeting?” She pushed him out of the room as Gomez sat awkwardly on the couch, wanting to help but unwilling to irritate Ophelia. He couldn’t help remembering Morticia’s gentleness when she had taken his arm, and from there his mind took him to the icy coldness of her hands, and then the smoothness of her skin, and from there-

“Now, I really think we could get a lot more light in here if we simply knocked down this wall.” Ophelia gestured to the wall in question as if she were giving a presentation. Fester, who had barreled straight back in, let his mouth drop open in horror. 

“More light?! Are you nuts!? The next thing you’re gonna wanna do is put in wall-to-wall carpeting!”

“Oh, that reminds me, the carpet people should be here any minute to give me an estimate,” Ophelia said. “Now, what do you think,” she asked, looking between Gomez and Faster as she spoke, “pile or shag?” Fester made an angry sort of noise deep in his throat and charged over to Gomez, who was still on the couch, trying to look small. “Gomez-” he growled, “-do something!” Fester pulled Gomez to his feet. “Now!”

“I would!” he insisted. “But every time I try to put my foot down, she-” Fester didn’t wait for him to finish. He roughly pushed Gomez towards Ophelia and crossed his arms. Gomez grimaced, but decided to give it a go. After all, it was his house Ophelia was talking about ruining. He cleared his throat and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, Ophelia?”

“Mm-hmm?” She wasn’t looking at him, instead she was squinting all over the room, probably envisioning white walls and an open floor plan.

“I have to go with Fester on this one,” Gomez said, and timidly put his hand on her shoulder. She slowly turned to him, and before Gomez had the chance to snatch his hand back Ophelia grabbed it and judo-flipped him. Ophelia briskly strode out of the room and left Gomez on the floor, with Fester looking down at him in disbelief.

“See what I mean?” Gomez groaned, and blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Morticia never dreamed. Her sleep was usually dark and empty, it had been since the day she was born. Her mother had found it odd and disturbing that she always slept so soundly as a baby, and Ophelia had sneered at her and called her stupid, but Morticia had never minded. From what she had heard of dreams, she was glad she didn’t have any. According to Ophelia, they were hardly ever dark or depressing, in fact, they were usually filled with colors and nonsensical images.

Morticia hated most colors, and she preferred that her world made sense. But that night, her first night in the Addams mansion, Morticia had a dream for the first time in her life, and, as Ophelia had always told her, it didn’t make any sense.

At the beginning of the dream, she was standing somewhere, alone, and she was surrounded by blinding white light. She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands, but it had no effect. She didn’t know how long she stood there in the horrible light, it felt like hours, but eventually it faded. She peeked through her fingers. There was still light all around her, but it wasn’t shining directly into her eyes. Someone was standing in front of her, casting a shadow over her. Her eyes were almost level with his shoulders, so she had to look up to see his face. He was hard to see in all the light, but Morticia was able to make out a bushy mustache over a wide, childish smile. He took her hand and kissed it, sending zings of electricity through her body, but before she saw anymore of him, he morphed into another man. She tore her hand away and stumbled back in horror when she recognized him, but something sharp pressed against her back, stopping her from retreating any farther.

“Hello Morticia,” she heard a voice whisper, a voice she hadn’t heard in four years and had hoped to never hear again. “Darling, you must have always known I would find you.”

There was a thump, something hard hit her elbows, and when she blinked, her eyes opened into a different sort of light. It was sunlight, streaming through the crack between her curtains, and she was lying on the floor. She stayed there for a moment, dazed, trying to understand what must have just happened. She immediately knew that it must have been a dream, but she was confused as to why she would have one now, when she never had before in almost twenty-two years of being alive.

“Morticia!” she heard her mother screech through the wall between their rooms. “Won’t you be quiet? It’s two pm, I am trying to sleep!”

“Yes, Mama,” she murmured. She heard her mother sigh in a long suffering way, but she didn’t say anything else.

Morticia normally didn’t get up until five o’clock, when the sun was just starting to go down, but she didn’t want to go back to sleep. She didn’t want to dream again. So, she untangled herself from her blankets, got up off of the floor, and got ready to face the night. She redid her braids and put on another gray dress. Gomez had told her that there was a large swamp on the property, and Morticia considered going for a walk around it. It was bound to be sunny, but in the heat a good swamp would be steaming by this time of day, and giving off a delightfully awful smell. But Morticia abandoned that plan as soon as she peeked out the window and was greeted by the sun shining directly into her eyes, violently reminding her of her dream, and she decided to stay inside.

She wandered around the house for a little while, and eventually found a library. She recognized several of the titles, but she was especially delighted to find an old-looking copy of Medea. It was her favorite play, she had always admired Medea’s cunning determination and ruthlessness, and the resiliency with which she had faced the many challenges in her life. She pulled it off the shelf and opened it, wondering who in this house read Greek tragedies. It opened easily, the spine was well-worn, it had obviously been read several times. She looked in the front cover for a name and was not disappointed. To Gomez, from Mama was written in an untidy scrawl, and Morticia had to squint to see the rest. May you find your Medea. For some reason, that last line sent a wave of hopelessness through her chest, though she couldn’t understand why.

It passed after a moment, so she settled into a lumpy chair sure to make her sore and began to read. She read slowly, savoring each word, and it took her two-and-a-half hours to read the entire play. By the time she finished, the sun was beginning to sink in the sky, but sunset was still several hours away, so she carefully put the book back where she had found it and set off again around the house.

There were hundreds of picture frames hung all over the house, each picture portraying, she assumed, a distant Addams relative. There was one of a woman with a beard surrounded by five bearded children, and another of just a pair of legs, stretching up out of the frame. She followed the pictures into a sitting room, and paused at a photo of two very handsome men who were joined at the hip.

Morticia had been so lost in thought, she hadn’t noticed there was someone else in the room, but he soon made himself known.

“Hello Morticia.” She gasped and whirled around to face him, heart racing, flashing back to her dream and the voice in the light, but she instantly calmed when she saw who it was.

“Gomez,” she said nervously, her heart slowing already. “You startled me.” It hadn’t been entirely unpleasant, she realized, in fact she had rather enjoyed the brief moment of terror once she had known who it was terrorizing her. “I like that,” she said, more to herself than to him.

“I see you’ve discovered Cousins Otis and Redding,” he said, gesturing to the picture of the two men.

“Yes, handsome, aren’t they?” she said warmly.

“But they fight like cats and dogs,” he continued, and she turned to him, one eyebrow raised in interest.

“Really?” she asked, and she didn’t have to pretend to sound engaged, like she usually did. Gomez was a fascinating person, and she was glad of any opportunity to speak with him without her sister watching.

“Yes. Otis always wants to work on his tan, but Redding, he hates to go outside unless it's raining.” Gomez said matter-of-factly. Morticia smiled to herself before answering.

“I’m on Redding’s side,” she said suddenly, and he turned to her in surprise. “I love the rain.”

“You do?” he asked, sounding delighted, and her insides squirmed pleasurably. She nodded. “What about hurricanes, flash floods, and-” he hesitated, “-lightening storms?”

“Oh, yes,” she said softly, and turned away as her mind filled with images of torrential rain pounding down on her. “The shock of the bolt as it strikes your body.” Gomez’s eyes widened as she continued. “The tingle of your hair standing on end.” She was lost in her imagination, and Gomez was lost in her voice, but she didn’t notice. In her daze, she also didn’t notice that he was leaning closer and closer to her, his eyes on her lips as she spoke. “The feel of electricity as it stops your heart.”

“Gomez!” an annoyingly musical voice cried out, and shattered the trance. Morticia shut her mouth and looked at the floor, mortified that she had revealed so much of her thoughts, as Ophelia bustled in, beaming. “There you are!” Ophelia squealed excitedly. “Let’s talk about the honeymoon!” That same hopeless feeling that Morticia had felt earlier, when she was reading, returned full force, but she fought to keep her composure, and didn’t dare to look up at Gomez as he responded, his voice sounding strangled.

“Honeymoon?”

“Yes, silly!” Ophelia responded in a bubbly voice. “I was thinking Paris-do you speak French?” Gomez opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment-

“Hey, Ophelia!” Fester walked in, and his face lit up fiendishly when he saw Ophelia. “There’s a delivery for you from Eem’s House of Vile.” Ophelia squealed and clapped her hands. “I mean, style,” Fester corrected himself.

“I’ll get it,” Gomez said loudly, and ran out of the room.

“No, Gomez, wait!” Fester called, and ran after him. After a moment standing in awkward silence with her slightly disappointed looking sister, Morticia quirked an eyebrow when she heard a distant scream. It sounded like Gomez. _It sounds like he’s having fun_ , she thought. Ophelia shrugged to herself, and seemed to finally notice that Morticia was in the room as well. She narrowed her eyes, and Morticia prepared herself for a scathing comment or a haughty demand.

_I wish I could join him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment, I'd love to hear what you think. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Morticia eventually freed herself from Ophelia’s clutches and escaped outside to the garden. The sun had gone down and it was a beautiful night, cold and damp, and the garden was lovely. It was full of nightshade and henbane and thornbushes, though Morticia saw that a few rose stems were blooming, and that they were ruining much of the effect of the otherwise charming garden. She had noticed some gardening tools on a shelf on her way out, and she soon retrieved some shears and cut the roses out of the thornbush before looking over them with a critical eye. She had managed to cut some nice, long, thorny stems, and if not for the unsightly blossoms, she thought they might look nice in her room.

As she started snipping off the buds, she heard someone approaching, and she glanced up to see Gomez standing in front of her. He was looking at her strangely, like he’d been hypnotized. Morticia found it a bit unsettling, but she shrugged it off and said, “I hope you don’t mind. I found these in your garden and noticed they were blossoming.” She nodded at the stems she was holding and snipped off another bud.

“I never knew roses could be so lovely,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at the thorns. Morticia smiled at him warmly, silently acknowledging the compliment. “Morticia?” He sounded nervous, and Morticia glanced up at him curiously before cutting off the last rosebud, leaving herself with a lovely bouquet of thorns.

“Yes, Gomez?” She put the shears down and ran her fingertips over the thorns as Gomez swallowed and then took a deep breath.

“How about a walk?” Morticia tilted her head, wondering why he would be so anxious about asking her something as simple as that. His shoulders had been tense, but he relaxed and grinned when she nodded, and he gestured to the path that would lead them to the cemetery. For a fleeting moment, Morticia thought he was going to put his hand on her back to gently lead her there. It certainly looked like we would; he reached behind her, and she even felt the tips of his fingers ghost across her back, sending bolts of energy up her spine, but he seemed to change his mind, and he instead stuffed his hands in his pockets. A tense silence grew between them, and Morticia looked at the ground, suddenly unable to look anywhere else. She could tell he was staring at her again, she felt his eyes on her, but she didn’t look up at him as she broke the silence.

“I love cemeteries,” she said quietly, silently begging him to jump in. She liked listening to him, she liked his voice and watching his expressions as he spoke, but she always felt like she was making a fool of herself whenever she opened her mouth, though Gomez never seemed to think so. It was part of the reason she liked speaking with him. “They’re so...gloomy.”

“Unfortunately your sister doesn’t think so,” Gomez answered somberly. “She wants to build a pool here.” He nodded at the cemetery, at all the charming fog and majestic headstones, and Morticia turned to him in disbelief.

“A pool? Whatever for?”

“I don’t know!” he answered, sounding upset that anyone would want to get rid of his cemetery. “Something about swimming.”

He scrunched his nose as he said it, and Morticia almost laughed at how his expression was making his mustache curl up. But he looked so perplexed already, she didn’t want to add to his confusion. Instead she allowed herself a small smile down at her thorns as she said, “I love Ophelia dearly, but she does have some rather strange ideas.” She hesitated before continuing. “Still, I’m sure she’ll make a very good wife.”

“For someone else perhaps,” Gomez answered dismally. At his words, Morticia felt a sort of flutter in her chest, like a caged bat, but she fought to ignore it. “Morticia…you’re not engaged to anyone, are you?” The fluttering intensified to the point where it was almost painful, and when she glanced up she knew it must be visible in her eyes. But she beat it back, and when she answered, there was only a slight tremor in her voice.

“Me? No.” Gomez’s face brightened, he looked hopeful, and Morticia had to get that look off his face or she felt that her heart was going to burst out of her chest. “At least, not yet.” His face fell, but the fluttering continued. “Mama is in the process of arranging my marriage to Vlad Addams. Your cousin, I believe.”

The fluttering died as soon as she said his name, and was replaced by emptiness where emotions should be. That always happened when she thought about Vlad.

“Cousin Vlad?” Gomez yelled, appalled. Morticia nodded, fighting to keep her face neutral as the emptiness spread through her chest. “A greater ache has never been born! Trust me, Morticia, he’s all wrong for you!” he continued in the same tone, gesturing animatedly. She fought not to succumb to the numbness that was threatening to engulf her, and tried to look cheerful as she answered.

“Well, I guess Mama hasn’t met the right man for me yet.”

“Maybe she has and she just doesn’t know it.” As soon as he said it, Morticia understood, and she knew he shouldn’t have.

She also knew he meant it.

He was staring into her eyes again, like she was the most entrancing person he’d ever seen, and the numbness in Morticia’s heart was instantly replaced with a deep sadness. She knew what he wanted, she wanted it too. But what she wanted and what she knew had to happen were two completely different things. Ophelia was going to marry Gomez. There was no point in wishing for anything else. As if in acknowledgment of her thoughts, a loud hacking sound she recognized as her mother’s laughter echoed through the cemetery from inside the house.

Gomez jumped, and finally broke eye contact for a split-second, giving Morticia just enough time to compose herself. When he looked back at her, she was walking down the path, fingering her thorns.

“Oh well,” she said quietly as he caught up to her. “ _C’est la vie.”_ Gomez froze abruptly, and she stopped next to him and looked at him curiously.

“That’s strange,” he said, more to himself, it seemed, than to her. “All of a sudden I feel a peculiar urge coming over me.” Morticia frowned slightly, her face filled with confusion.

“ _Pardon?”_ she asked.  Gomez gasped like he had been punched in the gut.

“Morticia, that’s French,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Speak some more!” It was an odd request, but it seemed harmless enough.

“ _Un, deux, trois, Toulouse-Lautrec, coup de pas.”_ There was fire in Gomez’s eyes, and it was getting more intense with every word of French she spoke. _“Amour.”_ The last one slipped out before she knew what she was saying, but it was distorted by her gasp as Gomez grabbed her arm.

For  half a second, memories Morticia had long suppressed forced themselves to the front of her mind; memories of another man who had often grabbed her, memories of knives and teeth and wanting desperately to escape.

Her old instincts nearly took over, and she would have jerked her arm away, but Gomez surprised her.

He kissed her, several times, starting at her hand and moving up her arm, leaving patches of fire wherever he touched her. The instinct to run melted away,  and Morticia took a deep, shuddering breath as  her heart began to pound in her chest, so hard Morticia was sure that Gomez was able to hear it.

Suddenly, Morticia heard a loud and dramatic gasp from behind them, and Gomez froze in the middle of kissing her shoulder.

“Gomez! Morticia!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please leave a comment!


	7. Chapter 7

“Ophelia, it’s not what it looks like.” Morticia slipped her arm from Gomez’s hands as she spoke.

“It isn’t?” he asked without thinking, and she glanced up at him warningly. “I mean, it isn’t.” Ophelia’s nose was in the air, she was pointedly looking away from both them. Mrs. Frump and Gomez’s mama came scurrying out of the house, and Gomez could see that Morticia’s mind was racing to produce an explanation.

“You see, Ophelia, Gomez was just kissing my arm-” she hesitated, still unsure of what to say, until her eyes lit up and Gomez let out a sigh of relief “-as practice, for when he’s married.” Gomez tensed when she said ‘married,’ but Morticia looked at him pleadingly, and he tried to think of something to say that would be helpful. He had been the one to get them in this mess, after all.

“That’s right,” he said reluctantly. “For when we’re married.”

“Married?” Ophelia squealed, and Gomez’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake. “I accept!” Ophelia shoved her way between Gomez and Morticia, forcing Morticia to step back, and grabbed Gomez’s head to yank him into a kiss. He stared down at her the entire time, his eyes bulging in surprise. She broke the kiss with a loud smacking noise, and he tried to step out of her embrace, but she pulled him into a hug and several more kisses.

“I hope Gomez’s heartfelt proposal puts your doubts about this union to rest,” Mrs. Frump told Gomez’s mama as Gomez stood completely still, his hands in his pockets, not responding to any of Ophelia’s gestures. “You can see for yourself he really loves Ophelia!” Mrs. Frump began to laugh as Gomez met Morticia’s eyes over Ophelia’s shoulder. After a moment, Morticia looked away, and slipped past her mother back into the house. No one but Gomez seemed to notice her leave.

“Oh, Gomez, we’re really going to get married!” He was watching Morticia’s back disappear into the house, and didn’t answer until Ophelia’s arms tightened around him to the point where she was severely restricting his breathing.

“Yep,” he wheezed, hoping she would release him. Mercifully, she did, and ran over to her mother. Both of them immediately started gushing about dresses and cakes and flowers, and Gomez used Ophelia’s moment of distraction to take Morticia’s example. He felt his mama’s eyes on him as he sneaked away, but she didn’t call him back.

He found her in his train room. She was running two of his favorite trains, watching them go around in circles on his tracks.

“Hello, Morticia,” he said glumly, after walking up to stand beside her.

“Gomez,” she replied, her voice empty of emotion. “I suppose I should congratulate you, now that your wedding’s official.”

“Oh.” The train engines met, coming to a stop just short of touching. “That.” The trains set off again, this time in different directions.

“One train going west, the other going east,” Gomez said despondently. “Destined never to cross paths again.” They both sighed, their shoulders slumped.

But after a moment, something sparked in Morticia’s eyes, and she smiled mischievously and said, “But what if they were to crash, head-on?” She flipped a switch, shifting one of the tracks just in time to alter the route of one of the trains, sending them barreling towards each other. Gomez grinned.

“And rust together for eternity.” His eyes widened as he got an even better idea. “Better still, what if they were to go up together in a ball of fire?” he exclaimed. He pulled a detonator from under the table and handed it to Morticia. “Here, you take this, and when the two trains meet that bridge-Wham!” He was shouting now, and Morticia’s eyes were bright with excitement.

They both waited eagerly for just the right moment as the trains approached each other at break-neck speeds. Gomez put his hand over Morticia’s on the detonator as the trains got closer, and closer, until finally-

They pushed the detonator together, and something exploded loudly underneath the bridge that both the trains had finally started to cross. The trains and the bridge both went up in flames, sending up an acrid cloud of smoke. Gomez was breathing heavily from excitement, but his heartbeat slowly started to return to normal as the smoke dissipated and the flames died.

“ _C’est merveilleux,”_ Morticia said next to him, and Gomez stiffened.

“That strange feeling is coming over me again,” he said as Morticia turned to face him, staring at him curiously. It was the same as he had felt earlier, when she had spoken French in the cemetery. The blood in his veins turned to ice, and he felt more awake and more aware of his surroundings than he ever had before in his life. He was especially aware of Morticia, of her pale skin and raven hair, of her deep brown eyes, of how close she was to him. “Morticia,” he said in a low voice, “say something in French.” Her eyebrows jumped up, and he knew she was also thinking of the incident in the cemetery. “Just one more time,” he pleaded.

Her lips curled into a small, impish  smile.  _“Pourquoi.”_ Gomez wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, so that their bodies were flush against each other. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said breathlessly, “but I can’t help it.” Morticia had flinched when he had touched her, but to Gomez’s relief, she hadn’t tried to pull away.

“I could help it,” she said, leaning back slightly, and Gomez’s heart plummeted, “but I don’t want to.” Gomez inhaled sharply, pulled Morticia even tighter against him, and crashed his lips onto hers. He felt her shoulders tense, but she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and relaxed against him. Gomez broke the kiss, but only for a moment. She needed to understand, he needed to tell her. 

“Morticia, I’ve been madly in love with you ever since the first moment I laid eyes on you.” He knew it was true, he felt it in the depths of his soul that he would never love anyone as much as he loved the woman he was holding in his arms. She had enchanted him, bewitched him, without even trying, and he never wanted to be apart from her as long as he lived.

“And I’ve been in love with you,” she responded immediately, with more passion and fervor in her voice than Gomez had ever heard there. He laughed, once, amazed at his luck, and pulled her into another searing kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

Fester Addams had had an eventful day. After Ophelia had threatened to renovate the house, he had gone straight to Lurch, and all afternoon the two of them had been trying to convince her the old mansion was a death trap, in the hopes of scaring her away. It seemed backward, but in Fester’s eyes, Ophelia was a backward person, and he thought backward tactics would probably work on her.

“Lurch, I can’t go back to school and leave Gomez in Ophelia’s clutches,” he had said, pacing back and forth in front of the butler. “Who knows what she’ll do? She’s liable to turn him into a fine, upstanding citizen, that lunatic.”

Fester’s first solution for the Ophelia problem had been to knock her off, but Lurch’s groan in response had been negative, and Fester had quickly conceded. Lurch had been right, Mama would kill them if they ruined her best hatchet.

But Ophelia had been harder to catch than they had realized. Their first idea had been to plant golf balls on the stairs and call Ophelia to come down. But Gomez had answered instead, and he had slipped on the golf balls, fallen down the stairs, through the trap door, and into a vat of hydrochloric acid. Luckily, the concentration of acid hadn’t been high enough to do any disfiguring-Ophelia was a guest, after all, even if Fester kind of wanted to kill her-so Gomez had been all right. The first time, anyway.

The second trick had been to set up a trip wire outside the door that, when pulled, would drop a forty-pound bag of flour onto the clueless victim’s head. But Gomez had fallen prey to that one, as well, in his desperation to get away from Ophelia, and Fester and Lurch had given up on their scheme after that. Whether Fester liked the bride or not, Gomez was supposed to be getting married soon, and Fester was sure he would want to be alive for that.

That was the gist of what Fester planned to say to his brother, if he could ever find him, along with an apology for trying to maim his fiancée. He had been looking for almost half-an-hour before it hit him-he hadn’t checked the train room. So he headed upstairs from the playroom and down a couple hallways before getting to the entrance of the train room, where he stopped dead in his tracks.

He had been right, Gomez was in there, but he was not playing with trains. Fester’s brother and Ophelia’s sister were in each others’ arms and kissing passionately, and they were wrapped in each other so tightly Fester thought they might never come unraveled. His eyes bulged, his jaw dropped, and he stared for a good two minutes before coming to himself and quickly backing out of the door.

He wandered through the house, hardly paying attention to where he was going. Somehow, he found himself back in the playroom, where Lurch was oiling the rack. He glanced up at Fester and groaned in acknowledgment of his presence, but Fester didn’t react. He collapsed onto the bed of nails and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about what he had just seen and what it meant.

“Lurch,” he said after a moment. “We have a dilemma.” Lurch groaned. “I don’t know if it’s bad,” Fester responded slowly. “But it sure seems complicated. What do you think, Lurch, should I ask Gomez about it or just pretend I don’t know?” Lurch’s groan was longer this time, and more inquisitive. “I don’t know if I should tell you, Lurch. I mean, I’m not even supposed to know he’s in love with Ophelia’s sister Morticia.” Lurch dropped his oilcan, and Fester stiffened, the sharp nails digging into his back. “Oops.” He looked over at Lurch, who was staring at him, his eyes wide with shock. “Well, now that you know, what do I do?”

Lurch advised him to wait to confront Gomez, and Fester agreed. He and Morticia had seemed very busy with each other, and he didn’t want to interrupt. So he putzed around in the playroom for a while as Lurch did his chores: sharpening the bed of nails, sanding the stocks, cleaning the iron maiden, and the like.

After three hours Fester thought it might be safe, and he ventured back upstairs to Gomez’s train room. He strode in, ready to face his brother, but he once again stopped in the door. Gomez and Morticia were in the same position as when he left them; they were standing next to the train set, still entwined in each other and still kissing passionately. Fester debated speaking up, and eventually decided to wait a little longer.

After another hour, though, he heard a car pull up the driveway and glanced out a window. He immediately recoiled back, wishing he could scrub the image of the monstrosity rolling towards the house out of his mind.

“Gomez! I hate to interrupt,” Fester said firmly as he strode into the train room, “but Griselda and Ophelia are outside in a pink Miata.” He shuddered a little bit at the mental image as Gomez and Morticia finally broke apart.

“What are we going to do?” Morticia said, glancing between Gomez and Fester, Gomez’s hand still on her back.

“Tell them to put it in the garage before the neighbors see it,” Fester answered immediately.

“Wait! I’ve got it!” Morticia and Fester looked at Gomez, waiting for him to elaborate, but he only swept Morticia into another kiss. Fester grimaced and pulled his brother away as they all heard the front door slam.

“Gomez! I’ve got china patterns for us to look at!” Ophelia’s sickeningly sweet voice called through the house.

“Oh, no, she’s flipped!” Fester said, horrified. Obviously, Ophelia had gone insane, there was no other explanation for her behavior.

“Quick, we’ve got to get out of here!” Gomez exclaimed in a panicky voice. He grabbed Morticia’s hand, and Fester bustled along behind them as Gomez ran downstairs to the playroom. Fester stood by the door for a minute, waiting to see if Ophelia was following, but he didn’t see or hear anything to suggest she was approaching.

Gomez, still holding Morticia’s hand, sat on the edge of the nail-bed, and she sat next to him as Fester started to pace.

“What are you two going to do?” He stopped pacing and looked at them, sitting as close as humanly possible to each other, their hands intertwined. “You’re crazy about each other.”

“I can’t come between Gomez and Ophelia,” Morticia said sadly. “It would break her heart.” Gomez sighed, staring at the floor and looking glum.

“I did give Ophelia my word that I’d marry her,” he said, rubbing his thumb in small circles over Morticia’s hand as she looked up at him miserably. Fester grabbed a mace and swung it around a bit to help him think.

“Curse our Addams family honor. Tragic, just tragic. In love with one woman, promised to another, why it’s worse than Romeo and Juliet,” he said despondently. He lost control of the mace, sending it flying behind him, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. Gomez jumped up.

“Fester, that’s it! We’ll do what Romeo and Juliet did!” Morticia raised her eyebrows, intrigued. “What did they do again?” Gomez asked after a moment.

“Why, they committed suicide,” Morticia replied, smiling. Fester stepped forward, unsure if he liked where this was headed.

“Right! Morticia, let’s put on these cement boots,” Gomez said with a grunt as he pulled a pair out from under the nail-bed, “and go skydiving!”

“What a wonderful idea!” Morticia was beaming, clearly imagining her spectacular death, and Fester found himself nodding, swept up in their excitement. “Oh, wait,” she said, her face falling, “I have a fear of heights.” Gomez and Fester both frowned, trying to think of anther idea. “I know, we could throw ourselves to the hyenas!” Fester hadn’t known they owned any meat tenderizer, but Morticia pulled a bottle of it out from somewhere, smiling once again.

“Good idea! Except,” Gomez said, looking sorry for disappointing her, “I’m allergic to hyenas.” Morticia frowned and put the meat tenderizer away, looking to Fester for more ideas.

“I know,” Fester said, having been struck with inspiration. “Why don’t you both spontaneously combust?” Morticia smiled at him, clearly pleased with the idea.

“Excellent idea!” Gomez yelled, reaching under the nail-bed again. “I’ll get the lighter fluid!” Morticia smiled fondly at him as he pulled out a bottle of it. Fester watched them as their eyes met, filled with excitement, and for a split-second he was excited, too, imagining the gigantic fire, and the blood and body parts all over the room, but then he shook himself.

“What am I saying? Life would be no fun without you two around.” Morticia and Gomez glanced at him and back at each other, their exhilaration fading. “You can’t kill yourselves!”

“Fester, that’s so sweet,” Morticia said, looking at him affectionately and patting his cheek. Fester laughed nervously and shrugged, suddenly understanding how his brother could be so taken with this kind, beautiful girl. He shuffled away to check the door again as Morticia asked, “Oh Gomez, what are we going to do?”


	9. Chapter 9

“You didn’t really take your own lives, did you?” Pugsley actually sounded worried, and Wednesday rolled her eyes as her parents glanced at each other.

“Here, Pugsley, have some more paint chips.” She handed him a bowl of chips to shut him up as her father answered.

“No, son, we didn’t. But I came perilously close to marrying Ophelia,” Gomez said with a grimace. Morticia’s hands twitched nervously, and she took Gomez’s hand and squeezed it tightly as she continued his thought.

“And I came perilously close to losing the only man I ever loved.” Her tone was light, but Wednesday could sense a tightness in her mother’s smile, and thought maybe her father had been right, earlier, about things scarring a person for life. Her mother was clearly still affected by the events which had eventually led to her marriage, and Wednesday wondered what the rest of the story was that it still frightened her mother thirteen years later.

“Oh, Tish, you could never lose me.” Gomez was staring intensely into Morticia’s eyes, and her shoulders relaxed immediately. Her smile widened as Gomez leaned forward and kissed her lightly, before pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. Any momentary concern Wednesday might have felt for her mother vanished, and she descended into the familiar disgust that she always felt when her parents got too affectionate.

“Come on, tell us what happened next,” Pugsley asked, but their parents didn’t respond.

“I have a feeling the rest of the story will have to wait until tomorrow,” Grandmama said knowingly, and Wednesday and Pugsley sighed and cast annoyed glances at each other, knowing she was right.

“Come on, Wednesday, Pugsley, let go outside to the cemetery and see if we can dig up someone new!”

Pugsley was immediately distracted, and jumped up with a cheery, “Okay! I’ll get the shovel!”

Wednesday was more sedate, but she got up, too, and followed her brother and uncle out of the room. On her way out, though, she hesitated briefly to eavesdrop.

“Happy anniversary, Tish.” That was her father, sounding as passionate as ever.

“Happy anniversary-” there was a pause, “- _Mon Cher.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of part one. Part two will be longer, and I'll really get into my AU *squeals*  
> Thanks for reading, please leave a comment!


	10. Chapter 10

Wednesday and Pugsley walked into the dining room together, a very impatient Wednesday having had to pull Pugsley out of the ground to get him to go inside for lunch. They had been playing all morning, at Pugsley’s request, but Wednesday wanted to hear the rest of her parents’ story and wasn’t willing to wait any longer.

“Children, I haven’t seen you all day! Where have you been hiding yourselves?” Morticia asked them with a smile. She, Gomez, Fester, and Grandmama were all sitting at the table, and all four of them had almost full plates in front of them.

“I was burrowing a new tunnel,” Pugsley said simply before he sat down.

“And I was trying to seal him in,” Wednesday continued menacingly, and sat down next to her brother.

Their parents smiled at each other. “Our children,” Gomez said proudly. “So productive.”

“Mother, Father,” Wednesday began suddenly, “could you tell us the rest of the story about how you two met?”

“Have you changed the bat-box, put away the maces and cobwebbed your room?” her mother asked. They had, in fact, not done any of those things, but Wednesday kicked her brother, hard, and sent him a heated glare that promised severe punishment if he didn’t say yes.

He gulped. “Yes, Mother,” they both answered. Morticia smiled at them, and they both knew she saw right through them, but she turned to Gomez anyway.

“Gomez?” she prompted.

“Sure, why not,” he answered with a grin.

“Well, your father and Ophelia’s wedding day was drawing near,” Morticia began, and Gomez finished her thought.

“So, we knew we had to think of something fast.”


	11. Chapter 11

Having rejected the suicide option, Fester, Gomez and Morticia, were pacing around the playroom, trying to come up with another plan to get them out of their predicament.

"I know," Fester said, and Gomez and Morticia looked up at him hopefully. "Let's knock off Ophelia."

Gomez's entire face lit up into a huge grin. "Excellent idea, I'll get the rack!"

"Gomez, Fester, I don't want any harm to come to Ophelia." They both looked at her as though she had suggested wearing a bright blue dress, and a small, ashamed part of Morticia understood their confusion. "She is my sister, after all," she said defensively. Gomez and Fester glanced at each other incredulously.

"And?"

"You do like Ophelia, don't you?" She knew they didn't, but her conscience wouldn't let her give up without trying.

"Well, it's not that she isn't a nice girl." Morticia could tell that Gomez was humoring her, and she appreciated it, even though she could see straight through it.

"She's sweet," Morticia said.

"And muscular."

"An angel."

"A doll! It's just, I can't stand her!" Morticia took a breath to answer, even though she didn't know how to respond to that. Thankfully, Fester saved her from having to say anything.

"Well, why don't you tell her that?" he asked Gomez. Morticia's heartrate rocketed up and her breathing got loud in her ears at imagining Gomez confronting Ophelia, and the fury that would inevitably follow.

"No!" Fester and Gomez turned to Morticia, Fester's eyebrows raised in surprise at her outburst, and Gomez's in concern at her suddenly shallow breathing. Morticia fought to get herself under control, cursing at her moment of weakness. "It might hurt her feelings." It was a poor excuse, but Gomez and Fester accepted it, though Gomez raised his eyebrows incredulously before starting to pace again.

"I've got it!" he said after a moment. "Why don't we send Ophelia overseas to work in a sneaker factory? She might even get us a discount." Morticia pursed her lips and Fester shook his head.

"Gomez, you can't do that," he said.

"Fester's right." said Morticia.

"It wouldn't be fair to he other workers," Fester continued, and after a moment's hesitation, Morticia decided not to argue with the truth.

Instead, she sighed and said sympathetically, "Poor Ophelia. All she wants is to be married." Gomez slumped, and the pit of hopelessness opened in Morticia's chest again. There didn't seem to be any solution to their problem that didn't involve Ophelia getting angry, or marrying Gomez, or both.

But Morticia was surprised when she glanced up at Fester and saw him smiling. "And I know just the guy," he said proudly. "Cousin Itt." Immediately, Gomez smiled and straightened up.

"Who?" Morticia asked when neither brother explained. Gomez shook his head.

"Not Who, querida, Itt." Morticia's insides squirmed in pleasure upon hearing the nickname, but she pushed the feeling aside, along with the intense desire to kiss him, in favor of addressing more pressing matters. "He's our cousin."

"And a real charmer," Fester added gleefully. "He'll sweep Ophelia right off her feet." Fester trundled away without saying another word, presumably to call Cousin Itt. Morticia watched until he was gone, then glanced at Gomez for his reaction to this plan. She frowned at the crease that had suddenly appeared between his eyebrows.

"Gomez, what's wrong?" He was looking at the ground, but he glanced up at her before looking away.

"Fester's right. Cousin Itt, he is quite the ladies' man." Morticia tilted her head curiously, wondering why that would make Gomez uncomfortable.

"And?"

"And-" Gomez started, before he started to struggle for words. "He's-Well, he's just-"

"Gomez," Morticia interrupted, amused. "You're not jealous, are you?" He glanced up at her and looked sheepish when he saw she was laughing.

"Oh, Gomez," she said after calming down, and gently touched his cheek. "I don't think you realize the hold you have over me."

"Cara Mia," he said in a low voice. Then he took her hand and kissed it, before starting to kiss up her arm again.

\---

"Will you two break it up?" Gomez and Morticia looked away from each other for the first time in hours and gave Fester their attention as he walked in with one of the most unique men Morticia had ever seen. "We have to introduce Cousin Itt to Witchhilda-I mean," he hurried to correct himself when Morticia gave him a disapproving glare and Cousin Itt looked at him curiously. "We have to introduce Cousin Itt to the woman of his dreams."

"Cousin Itt, thanks for coming," Gomez said before turning to Morticia. "Morticia, this is Cousin Itt." She smiled down at Itt. He was a short man, and his entire body was covered in his long, thick hair. She thought he was rather handsome, but Gomez had nothing to worry about, she was sure. "Cousin Itt, this is Morticia." Gomez's voice changed when he said her name. He sounded shy, like he didn't know if he was allowed to say it. Morticia cast a warm smile at him over her shoulder, and his face relaxed. Cousin Itt took her hand in one of his gloved ones and kissed it, and her shoulders tensed, slightly. She was surprised by her reaction to being touched by someone other then Gomez; it felt threatening again, something to be wary of. She retracted her hand perhaps a little too quickly, but Itt didn't seem to mind. He actually stepped forward a little, and she shrank against Gomez, though hopefully not enough that anyone would notice.

When Cousin Itt started to speak, though, her wariness was instantly replaced with indignation and no small amount of discomfort. "Mr. Itt, please, we just met." She widened her eyes at what he said next in his high, warbling voice, and Gomez stepped out from behind her.

"That does it," he said, furious, and Cousin Itt backed up in fright. Gomez whipped Itt's hat off and gave him one good knock on the head.

"Oh, Gomez, stop," Morticia said in a worried tone, and grabbed Gomez's arm before he could hit Itt again. She felt his muscles relax at her touch, and he glanced back at her, frustrated. She held his gaze and raised her eyebrows, and she saw in his eyes the exact moment he gave in to her wishes.

He eventually settled for saying, "That'll teach you to make a play for my Morticia, you long-haired Lothario," and continued to glare at Itt until Fester smacked his shoulder.

"Gomez, get a hold of yourself." Cousin Itt hurried to apologize, quaking at Gomez's burning gaze, and Morticia sent him a reassuring look before Fester continued "See, Cousin Itt said he was sorry." He leaned forward and hissed in Gomez's ear, "You do want him to take Ophelia off your hands, don't you?" Gomez nodded reluctantly, and after hesitating for a moment, put Cousin Itt's hat back on his head.

"You have to understand," he said, half-apologetically, "when it comes to Morticia, I can't control myself." He put his arm around her waist, and she smiled up at him. Cousin Itt said he was sorry again, sounding more genuine this time.

"Apology accepted," Morticia said warmly.

"Besides, we brought you here to meet Morticia's lovely sister Ophelia," Fester interjected. Morticia frowned slightly at Cousin Itt's next, rather rude, question.

"There's nothing wrong with her!" Gomez answered quickly.

"She's, uh, got a great personality," Fester said. Gomez and Morticia nodded eagerly, but Itt wasn't buying it, and asked another impertinent question.

"She is not fat!" Gomez assured him, and Morticia was relieved at finally being able to agree wholeheartedly. Whatever else her sister was, she was not overweight. Itt still sounded skeptical, but Fester was quick to reassure him.

"Cousin Itt, trust me, you're really going to like her."

Despite his obvious reluctance, it wasn't difficult for them to get Itt upstairs to meet Ophelia, who was trying on wedding dresses. Upon seeing her clutching a white, frilly, poofy dress, Cousin Itt tried to run, but Gomez and Fester caught him and pushed him towards her.

"Please, Cousin Itt, give her a chance," Fester said. After a moment of looking between them pleadingly, Itt sighed and turned around.

"Mother, do you think this dress make my ankles look thick?" Ophelia asked, and Morticia could tell that her mother been asked that question several times and was getting tired of it.

"Not any more than the other sixteen you've tried on," she answered wearily. Itt chose that moment to interrupt and introduce himself, and Morticia was thankful to see that he was unloading all his charm.

"Aren't you an adorable little furball!" Ophelia squealed. Itt then turned and greeted Morticia's mother, who erupted into laughter at his sense of humor.

Morticia tried to keep her voice from quavering when she stepped forward and said, "Ophelia, I see you've met Gomez's cousin, Itt." Ophelia looked at her suspiciously. "He's quite charming, don't you think?" Morticia's heart plummeted when Ophelia didn't answer except to narrow her eyes, but Itt chose that moment to jump in again and pay Ophelia a rather suggestive compliment. Ophelia pretended to blush, but Morticia was relieved to see her sister was eating it up.

"Ah, those multi-millionaires," Gomez said loudly and far too conspicuously, "they do say the darndest things." Ophelia's indulgent look turned prospective as she glanced over Itt again.

"I guess it's all that jet-setting around the world, all those star-studded parties that keeps the mind so razor-sharp," Fester said, just as loudly. Ophelia glanced up at them sharply.

"Multi-millionaires?" she said excitedly. "Jet-setting?" Cousin Itt cracked another joke, and Ophelia's laugh was louder and more bubbly this time. "Gomez," she said airily as she started to lead Itt away, "you better be nice to me, or your cousin just might steal me away."

"Really?" Morticia cringed at the poorly disguised hope in Gomez's voice, but she couldn't help feeling a bit elated herself.

"Don't worry, Gomez," her mother said reassuringly, and Gomez's face filled with dread. "I'll see to it that you and Ophelia get married if it's the last thing I do." She cackled loudly as she followed Ophelia and Itt, leaving Gomez looking depressed and Morticia glaring after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll learn more about Morticia's thing with touching in a later chapter. Thanks for reading, please review!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter is descriptions of abuse in Morticia's past, and it may be upsetting for some people, especially if you have been abused in the past. If you don't want to read it, there is a short summary of the chapter at the bottom.

"Morticia?" Gomez knocked again. He had been knocking for at least five minutes, but she hadn't answered. It had been a few days since Cousin Itt had arrived, and Ophelia was thoroughly charmed. Gomez hardly saw her anymore, and he and Morticia had been taking every opportunity to spend time together. "Ophelia and Cousin Itt are looking very preoccupied with each other, I wondered if you would like to go for a walk in the swamp?" There was still no answer, and Gomez frowned. He knew she was in there, he had looked everywhere else, and besides, Lurch had told him so. But he didn't understand why she wouldn't say anything, not even to tell him she wanted to be alone or anything. Finally, after another minute without an answer, he cracked the door open and poked his head inside. "Morticia?" He glanced around, but the room appeared to be empty. He stepped inside all the way and closed the door behind him. He had only gone a few steps into the room when the door to the room's bathroom opened and Morticia walked out, brushing her hair and wearing nothing but a towel.

Gomez's heart sped into overdrive, even before he realized what he was actually seeing. He gasped, and Morticia's eyes shot up to meet his. For a crystal-clear second, everything was still. Neither of them spoke, or moved, or even breathed. Gomez watched the surprise in Morticia's eyes turn to embarrassment, then to sadness, and then fear, all in the smallest moment. The spell was shattered when she stumbled back into the bathroom and slammed the door. For a split-second, Gomez just stared at the spot where Morticia had stood as he was thrust into understanding. How she scared she looked when someone surprised her, how she jumped when anyone touched her, how quiet she got sometimes, like she was trying to be invisible, it all suddenly made sense.

Her entire body that he had seen, her arms and legs and some of her chest, was covered in long, thin scars.

The sound of Morticia's shallow breathing snapped Gomez out of his trance. He ran to the bathroom door and tried to open it, but she had locked it already.

"Morticia? Morticia, I'm sorry, I was surprised. Please, cara, let me in." He waited for an answer, but he only heard her slide down the door and take a deep, shuddering breath.

"Morticia?" he tried again, in a softer, gentler, tone. "What happened to you? Please tell me, I want to be able to help you." The smallest noise came through the door, and Gomez's heart filled with guilt when he heard it. It was a quiet, broken, sob. "Morticia," he whispered, but she didn't answer. Gomez waited, but after half-an-hour, he despaired of getting any response any time soon.

"I'm going to go downstairs. Come down when you feel ready, all right?" Morticia didn't make a sound, but Gomez hadn't expected anything else. He left her room and went downstairs, a cloud of gloom surrounding him. He collapsed onto a lumpy couch, and after a moment, Fester lumbered in. Noticing his brother's unhappy state, Fester grinned.

"Gomez, you look miserable! Care to let me in on the secret?" Gomez gazed balefully up at Fester and shook his head. Fester pouted. "Oh, come on. You can't keep all that gloom to yourself, tell me why you're so wonderfully unhappy." Gomez sat up, frustrated.

"It's not the good kind of misery, Fester! Will you please leave me alone?" Fester leaned back, stunned, but after a minute, understanding dawned in his eyes.

"Is it Morticia?" Gomez glared up at him resentfully, which Fester took as a yes. He cackled merrily and clasped his hands together. "Your first lovers' tiff. How exciting!"

"It's not a tiff, Fester! Now please leave, I need to think." Fester pursed his lips.

"More like sulk," he grumbled, but he shuffled away, as Gomez had asked. After he had left, Gomez leaned back on the couch and stared at the ceiling, wondering and waiting.

What seemed like a long time passed before Gomez heard Morticia's light footsteps quietly coming down the stairs. He jumped up and hurried to meet her, but as soon as she saw him she froze again. She tried to run back up the stairs, away from him, but he managed to grab her wrist before she got too far. She flinched when he touched her, and Gomez's heart clenched when he saw the fear in her eyes. He didn't know what else to do, so he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. To his great relief, she didn't hesitate before kissing him back. He wanted to stay there forever, in that moment of trust and passion, but Gomez broke the kiss first, and he swept her up and carried her back upstairs, to his train room. He put her down as gently as he could, then he took both of her hands in his and fell to his knees in front of her.

"Cara mia, forgive me. I was a cad. A rude, brutish cad. I love you, all of you. You are so beautiful." Morticia's lips twitched into a small smile, but it quickly vanished. She dropped his hands and turned away.

"There is no need to apologize, Gomez. I know I'm-" her voice cracked, "-I know my scars are horrifying, I wasn't surprised you found me grotesque." Gomez leaped to his feet and pulled her around to face him.

"Querida." She looked up, her eyes filled with sadness. "You could never be anything but beautiful to me. I love you." He meant it, with all his heart, but he could see that she was struggling to believe him. She stepped back, out of his embrace, and crossed her arms.

"I don't think you understand fully what they mean," she said distantly. Gomez reached forward, longing to draw her back into his embrace, but she stepped back further.

"Then tell me what happened. Help me understand," he pleaded. Her eyes bored searchingly into his before she took a deep breath and started to speak.

"I told you my mother is arranging my marriage to your cousin, correct?" Gomez nodded, not sure which way this was going or how Vlad had anything to do with it. "She's been arranging it for some time. Several years in fact." She paused and swallowed. "We were introduced in high school, and I hoped that if things went well, we could get married when I graduated." She hesitated again, and Gomez slowly took a step forward, but he didn't try to touch her, in fear of startling her.

"Well, you're not married, so I'm assuming things didn't go well." Morticia shook her head and took a deep breath before continuing.

"He wanted certain things, that I wasn't willing to give him until we were married. But-" Morticia's arms tightened around herself. "-he was persistent." Gomez's face darkened. He could think of two ways this story was going to go, and neither direction put Vlad in a very flattering light. He listened with rapt attention as Morticia went on.

"I suppose the cutting was his idea of foreplay." Her voice was getting more matter-of-fact and emotionless with every word, and Gomez didn't know if that was good or bad. "I turned him down every time, but he still kept trying. I didn't know what to do, I knew my mother would never believe me, and the wedding was set for the summer after graduation. Eventually I just begged my mother to postpone it. I told her that I wanted to go to college before I got married. She let me. Vlad tried to visit, but my host family never let him in the house. They were very kind to me," she mused, looking momentarily lost in memories. Gomez cautiously reached out and very gently touched her elbow. She blinked and looked up at him. He smiled at her, struggling to push his fury at Vlad, which had been building since he started to understand, to the back of his mind for the time being.

"I'm glad you got away from him." She broke eye contact.

"It wasn't permanent. I moved back home a month ago, and Mama started planning again."

"I won't let it happen," Gomez said vehemently. "I won't let you marry a man who marked you without your permission. Morticia, I promise you, when I find that rancid excuse for an Addams, I'll-"

"Gomez," she interrupted. She cupped his cheek in her hand, and he tilted his head towards her touch. "Please don't. What could you do to your own family?"

"I could give him a quick and painless death," Gomez answered darkly. "So he doesn't even see it coming. He wouldn't suffer at all, I would make sure of it. He doesn't deserve to enjoy his own death."

"Gomez!" Morticia exclaimed, horrified. "You wouldn't!"

"I would!" he protested. "I should! He doesn't even-"

"Gomez," she interrupted again, gentler this time. She stroked his cheek, and he took her hand and kissed it. "Don't talk about him. Please." Gomez frowned, but he relented when he saw that she was very close to breaking down if he continued.

"Querida," he said softly, and she finally allowed him to take her into his arms.

"Gomez," she said against his chest, her voice muffled. "Do you really think I'm-well, am I really-"

"You are beautiful, Tish. Every part of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Morticia's ex-fiancé Vlad Addams used to cut her to try to get her to have sex with him. She never did, and she has managed to stay away from him for four years while she was in college. Gomez finds out that she is covered in scars and she is scared he won't love her anymore, but he tells her he does.
> 
> A/N: I would just like to make it clear that I have never been abused in any way, and I have never known anyone who has been either. This is all a guess, and if you're reading this and it has upset you, I'm very sorry.


	13. Chapter 13

"Why am I in here again?"

"Because I need your help, Fester! I want to do something for Morticia, something special, but I don't know what! She should have the entire world, how can I even come close to giving her what she deserves?" Gomez exclaimed, brandishing his arms around as he paced back and forth in his room. "What do you think?" Fester glanced up from his comic book, frowning in confusion.

"Didn't you leave twenty-five vases of thorns in her room yesterday? Isn't that enough of a grand, romantic gesture for now?" Gomez stopped pacing and gave his brother a look of incomprehension. Fester rolled his eyes. "You don't want to scare her off."

"I know," Gomez conceded, "but I don't want her to think I don't care." Fester snorted while turning a page in his comic book, his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she knows how you feel." Gomez's arms fell to his sides, and he collapsed back into his bed. Fester looked over at him as he stared up at the ceiling, before sighing in a long-suffering way and closing his comic book.

"What sort of something?" he asked reluctantly, and Gomez shot up into a sitting position.

"Something big," he said excitedly. "Something she'll remember forever."

"Do you know when her birthday is?" Fester asked, trying to stall while he thought.

"Friday." Fester looked at him and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"This Friday?" Gomez nodded, before his entire face lit up.

"Fester, you're a genius!" Fester smiled in a self-satisfied way, and opened his comic book again. "But what do I do?" Fester groaned and closed the comic book.

"I don't know! Take her to dinner or something." Gomez shook his head, frustrated.

"I've taken her out to dinner four times this week." He hesitated, struggling for the right words. "Something…more special."

"Then tell Lurch to make a cake, we'll have a party," Fester said dismissively. Gomez froze, before slowly turning to Fester, a grin growing on his face.

"Fester, you're a genius!"

"You said that already," Fester tried to interrupt, but Gomez wasn't listening anymore.

"I'll throw a party for her! I'll get the entire clan here, and there'll be dancing and music and-"

"Gomez!" Gomez's head snapped to face Fester. "What about Ophelia?" Gomez's face fell upon remembering his fiancée.

"Oh yeah. How do I get rid of her?" Fester opened his mouth, then closed it, unable to think of any suggestions. Suddenly, Gomez shot to his feet, startling Fester, and ran out of his room. Grumbling, Fester heaved himself to his feet and followed. He found his brother in a low conversation with Cousin Itt outside the den.

"Please, Cousin Itt? It would mean a lot to me," Gomez pleaded, and Itt hesitated for a moment before sighing and nodding. "Thanks, old man," Gomez said with a grin, and Itt waved him off before walking into the den. Fester walked up behind Gomez and tapped him on the shoulder.

"What was that about?" he asked. Gomez started violently and hurried to shush him.

"Shh, Fester!" he whispered vehemently. "Don't let her hear you." He tiptoed away from the den, dragging Fester along with him when he didn't follow right away. When there was no danger of their being heard, Gomez clapped a hand on Fester's shoulder and said brightly, "Well, that's taken care of. I'm gonna go talk to Lurch about setting up the ballroom, can you start calling around and inviting people?" Fester opened his mouth, but Gomez didn't give him the chance to say anything. "Thanks, I'll see you later."

"But who-?" But Gomez was already disappearing around a corner, leaving Fester staring after him, his mouth still half-open. After a moment, Fester shut his mouth and shrugged. He found a phone and started making calls, certain that everyone he called would come. He knew his family; none of them would ever turn down a good party. He just hoped Morticia wouldn't mind meeting the Addamses all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Gomez and Fester are putzes and I needed this for my soul. Thanks for reading, please comment!


	14. Chapter 14

Morticia opened her eyes and smiled at the sight that greeted her. She had just woken up, and her entire room that she could see from her bed was filled with bouquets of thorns. Gomez, she had learned, was given to extravagant romantic gestures, which she found very endearing, even if it wasn't exactly conducive to secret-keeping. Most of the house knew about them by now, only Ophelia, her mother, and Gomez's mother remained in the dark about their relationship.

She swung her legs over the side of her bed, being careful not to knock over the vase on the bedpost, and looked around the rest of her room. Gomez had found and used every flat surface in the room, leaving a vase of thorns wherever it could stay upright.

There was a card leaning against the vase on her bedside table, but she didn't read it until she found and counted every bouquet in the room. There were forty-five, and Morticia laughed softly as she finally picked up the card.

_To Morticia, my beautiful querida_

_Happy Birthday_

_I love you more than words can express_

_Forever your willing slave,_

_Gomez_

Morticia smiled and looked around her room again. It felt surreal, standing in her nightgown in a room that wasn't really hers, surrounded by dozens of tokens of affection and admiration from a man who was supposed to be in love with her sister, and holding a card from that same man, professing his love for her. And he _knew._ He knew what had happened, what Vlad had done to her, and he still loved and wanted her.

And, for the first time in years, or perhaps ever, she wasn't afraid to love someone back.

She wanted to lie back on her bed and soak in the whole moment, but she resisted the urge and instead hurried to get dressed, eager to find Gomez and give _him_ a token of _her_ affection. She briefly considered what she should do with the thorns, but she quickly decided to leave them, just this once. It was her birthday after all, and her mother would probably accept that excuse. However, she probably would not accept any excuse for the card, and Morticia stowed it away in a drawer before she left her room.

"Gomez?" she called into the library after carefully shutting the door behind her. She heard a book slam shut and Gomez jumped up out of a chair facing the window. His face split into a huge smile when he saw her, and Morticia laughed at the excitement in his eyes.

"Morticia! Did you like the thorns? And the card?" Morticia met him in the middle of the room as he hurried to her, and Morticia stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. He meant it to be a chaste, good-morning kiss, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened it. She smiled into the kiss at the small, surprised noise he made, and broke away before he could reciprocate and left him spluttering in the middle of the room as she walked to his seat.

"What are you reading?" Gomez turned to her, his eyes still wide and his mouth still hanging open. Morticia grinned to herself, pleased at the effect she could have on him, and picked up his book. " _Medea_?" Gomez shook himself, and swallowed as he nodded. "That's one of my favorite plays. Actually," she said, after a quick peek at the inside of the cover, "I read this very copy the first day after I got here."

"Really?" Morticia nodded and put the book down, careful not to disturb the bookmark. When she looked up again Gomez was right behind her, and he immediately swept her into a mind-blowing kiss of his own. She stiffened in surprise, and when he broke the kiss she was sure she was blushing. "Happy birthday, Tish."

"Indeed," she said, trying not to shudder at the rush of energy Gomez had sent coursing through her body.

Gomez grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously, and Morticia knew she hadn't fooled him.

"I got you something."

"You mean besides the forty-five vases of thorns in my room?"

As it turned out, he had gotten her a lot of somethings, most of them ridiculously expensive, and he seemed to take great pleasure in giving them to her all throughout the day, whenever she least expected it. She thanked him with a kiss every time, which he also seemed to take great pleasure in.

Lurch and Fester were conspicuously absent nearly the entire day, but Morticia didn't notice until Fester finally appeared in the door and called Gomez away to a short, whispered conversation. Morticia raised her eyebrows at Gomez when he returned, but didn't sit down.

"I have to go sort something out," he said apologetically. "But I'll see you later, in the ballroom."

"The ballroom?" That was one of the few rooms in the house she had never been in, but Gomez smiled at her obvious confusion.

"That's right, querida." he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, and Morticia smiled at how his mustache tickled before he walked out of the room past Fester, who waved at Morticia before turning and following his brother. Morticia waved back at him until he disappeared.

\---

"Happy Birthday, Morticia," Fester said merrily as she passed him in the hall.

"Thank you Fester."

"Wait, you're not going downstairs in that, are you?" Morticia looked down at her customary gray dress, glancing down the long sleeves for holes or stains. She was on her way to meet Gomez in the ballroom, as he had asked, but Fester's incredulous look told her she was missing something.

"Well, why not?" Fester opened his mouth and closed it again, seemingly struggling for words.

"It's-well-it's your birthday, don't you want to dress up?"

"Don't be silly, what if Ophelia saw me?" The skeptical look slipped off of Fester's face, to be replaced with a wide grin.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that. Cousin Itt took her, your mother, and my mother out to dinner. They won't be back for hours." Morticia stared into his eyes, searching for any hint of what Gomez had obviously planned. But Fester's grin only got wider.

"I think you should dress up." Morticia paused before answering, trying to think of a way to get the information she wanted out of him.

"I only have one other dress that isn't like this. I'm going to wear it-" she hesitated, "-I had planned to wear it for Ophelia's wedding."

"Well, put it on and get downstairs, Gomez has a surprise for you." Morticia's small, triumphant smile told Fester he had given away more than he should have. He winced. "Rats. Don't tell him I told you that. Just, hurry up," he said, ushering her back to her door. "He's waiting." Morticia opened her mouth to ask what Gomez had planned, but he shut her own door in her face before she could say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please leave a comment!


	15. Chapter 15

"Wow." Morticia started, then turned to Fester, who was waiting right outside her door. He was staring at her unabashedly, taking in her tight dress and gleaming, brushed-out hair. Morticia raised her eyebrows disapprovingly as he checked her out, but her lips twitched into a small smile.

"Fester," she greeted him. "Will this do?" He nodded, snapping his mouth shut and giving himself a shake.

"You look…nice," he finally managed to stammer. Fester laughed nervously at how flustered he was, and eventually offered his arm. Morticia took it, and together they started walking towards the ballroom. "If I'm this mixed-up, imagine how Gomez is going to react!" Fester said, and erupted into laughter at the thought as they reached the staircase that lead to the doors of the ballroom. Gomez was waiting at the foot of the staircase, fidgeting and fixing his tie restlessly. He didn't notice them until Fester cleared his throat, and his head snapped up. His mouth fell open when he saw Morticia, and she laughed softly as she and Fester descended the stairs to meet him.

"Morticia… that dress…" he said in a strangled voice.

"Yes, Fester told me not to wear my normal dress, and this is the only other one I had," she said, feigning indifference. "Is it all right?"

"It's stunning, cara mia, you are magnificent!" Gomez rushed to tell her, tripping over his words and his own feet as he stepped forward to offer his hand. As she took it, Morticia heard from the ballroom dozens of people walking and talking and seemingly having a good time. She gave Gomez a sharp, questioning look, and he smiled sheepishly. "Surprise. Welcome to your party." Fester opened the door to the ballroom, and Morticia blinked and froze, like a deer in the headlights.

"Gomez, how many people are here?" she said in a low voice.

"Well, my entire family, so-"  
"You're _entire_ family?" Gomez gave her a pleading look, before his eyes widened in understanding.

"Minus one. Morticia, I promise, as long as you're here, you will always be safe from him." She didn't say anything, but she did relax a little. "I'm sure you'll love them all, querida."

"I'm not worried about whether I'll like them, I'm sure they're all lovely, but will they-" She stopped and swallowed, staring into the ballroom, her grip on Gomez's hand tightening.

"Cara," Gomez said warmly. "They'll all love you." She looked up at him, uneasy. He smiled down at her reassuringly and gently kissed her forehead.

"Just don't leave me alone."

"Never," Gomez promised. One hand on her back, he led Morticia into the room, where what looked like at least a hundred people were mingling. A waltz was drifting through the air, courtesy of Lurch on his piano in the corner, and a few couples were dancing in the middle of the room. There was a table full of some of her favorite foods and a large cake on one side of the room, and someone was serving drinks from a small bar on the other side.

No one noticed them come in, Morticia thought, and breathed a sigh of relief as she looked around. To her surprise and delight, she recognized several people from their pictures around the house. There was the bearded woman, looking somewhat older than she did in her picture, talking to one of her bearded daughters. And Otis and Redding were in a corner; Otis trying to dance, and Redding having none of it and refusing to move. As they moved deeper into the room, people started to come up and greet them, and Gomez didn't let go of her for an instant as he introduced them all to her.

Just as Morticia was starting to feel overwhelmed by all the names and faces, she heard a voice she recognized calling her name. "Morticia!" She whirled around, straight into the arms of Lily Munster.

"Aunt Lily! What are you doing here?" Morticia asked as she was pulled into a hug. She reluctantly let go of Gomez's hand to hug her back.

"Your friend Gomez called us, and told us he was throwing you a surprise party," Aunt Lily answered warmly before pulling her into another hug. "We've all missed you, dear, how are you?" she asked as she gave Morticia a quick kiss on the cheek and let go of her.

"I'm very well, thank you," Morticia answered with a smile. "Us?" she asked, looking around the room.

"Oh, yes, Herman's here somewhere, and Grandpa and Marilyn are back at the hotel. Would you, ah, care to introduce me?" Lily said lightly, with a nod at Gomez, who was standing awkwardly behind Morticia.

"Oh! Gomez, this is Lily Munster. She and her husband Herman hosted me when I was in college. Aunt Lily," she took Gomez's hand again, and looked down bashfully at Lily's knowing smirk, "this is Gomez Addams." Gomez took Lily's hand and kissed it politely.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Munster."

"And you," she answered, and raised an eyebrow at Morticia, who blushed as Lily examined her hair and dress. "That's certainly a lovely dress, Morticia," she said wryly, and Morticia felt like sinking into the ground even as she smiled involuntarily.

"Thank you. Uncle Herman!" she cried, very grateful for the distraction as Herman Munster approached them through the crowd.

"Well, hello, Morticia," he said when he reached them. Morticia stretched up as high as she could to kiss him on the cheek.

"Gomez, this is Herman Munster. Uncle Herman, Gomez Addams." As the two men shook hands, Aunt Lily linked her arm through Morticia's and jerked her head towards the drinks, and Morticia knew she meant just the two of them. Morticia glanced Gomez, unsure of whether she wanted to let go, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, telling her she didn't have to go anywhere she didn't want to. Morticia hesitated, but then returned the pressure before slipping her hand out of Gomez's.

"It's all right. I won't be alone," she said softly, and allowed Lily to lead her away.

"He's certainly very protective of you, isn't he?" Lily said as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Yes," Morticia answered quietly, with a small smile. Lily gave her a piercing look as she took a glass of punch.

"He's in love with you, did you know that?" Lily handed her the glass, and Morticia nodded as she took it. "Does he know you're in love with him?" Morticia took a small sip of punch and nodded again as she swallowed. Lily nodded slowly, before taking a sip out of her own glass. "Hmm."

"What? What does 'hmm' mean?"

"It's just—well, dear, you don't have the best history with-" Lily cleared her throat, and took another sip.

"With whom? Addamses? Men in general?" Lily grimaced apologetically. "I can hardly judge all Addams men based on Vlad."

"You're right," Lily agreed immediately, before heaving a deep sigh. "I just worry about you, dear. I can't help it, I care about you too much to not worry." The corners of Morticia's mouth twitched up slightly.

"Thank you, Aunt Lily," she said quietly. Lily took another sip, and narrowed her eyes at Morticia over the rim of her glass, looking her up and down.

"By the way, where did you get that dress? I've never seen you in something so…mature." Morticia choked on her drink, and Lily laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear. It is a very nice dress. I'm not sure I would have allowed you out of the house in it when you lived with us, but Gomez certainly seems to appreciate it."

Morticia choked again, and Lily's rich laughter rang through the ballroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, the Munsters are here. *mind-blown*  
> Thanks for reading, please leave a comment!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Please review! All of this dialogue came straight from the beginning of the first episode of the two. Thanks for reading!


End file.
